Edwy the Fair or the First Chronicle of Aescendune by A. D. Crake

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"It will occupy them nearly an hour," said Dunstan, "and we shall be farfar away before they have succeeded in effecting an entrance."

So they rode on rapidly into the night. Before them lay the Foss Way,the road was good and well known to them, the moon was shining brightly,and their spirits rose with the excitement and the exertion. Onward! Onward!

CHAPTER XII. AT HIS WORST.

The unhappy Elfric had indeed fallen from his former self before hereached the depth at which our readers have just seen him, joining withRedwald in the unhallowed enterprise so happily frustrated, if indeed itwere yet frustrated, by his own brother.

But when his father had returned to Aescendune alone, Elfric felt thathome ties were shattered, and that he had nothing but the royal favourto depend upon, so he yielded to the wishes of King Edwy in all points.

Immediately after his coronation, the reckless and ill-advised Edwy hadmarried Elgiva, [xxiii] in defiance of the ban of the Church, and thenhad abandoned himself to the riotous society and foolish counsels ofyoung nobles vainer than those who cost Rehoboam so large a portion ofhis kingdom. Amongst these Elfric was soon conspicuous and soon aleader. His spirit and physical courage far beyond his years excitedtheir admiration, and in return they taught him all the mysteries ofevil which were yet unknown to him.

Under such influences both the king and his favourite threw off alloutward semblance even of religion, and only sought the means ofenjoyment. Redwald ministered without reserve or restraint to all theirpleasures, and under his evil influence Edwy even found occasion to roband plunder his own grandmother, a venerable Saxon princess, in orderthat he might waste the ill-gotten substance in riotous living.

Yet there was a refinement in his vice: he did not care for coarsesensual indulgence to any great extent; his wickedness was that of asensitive cultivated intellect, of a highly-wrought nervous temperament.Unscrupulous--careless of truth--contemptuous of religion--yet hehad all that attraction in his person which first endeared him toElfric, whom he really loved. Alas! his love was deadly as the breath ofthe upas tree to his friend and victim. When the first measures ofvengeance were taken against Dunstan, with the concurrence of wicked butable ministers of state, Redwald was selected as the agent who shouldbribe the thanes, and begin the course of conduct which shouldeventually lead to the destruction of the enemy of the king. He had onlywaited till the temper of the times seemed turned against Dunstan (hejudged it wrongly); and the king seemed secure against every foe ere heplanned the expedition we have introduced to our readers.

We will now resume the thread of our narrative.

When the band of soldiers, headed by Redwald, had gained the gates ofthe monastery, they found them, as we have seen, firmly locked and barred.

"Blow your horns; rouse up these sleepy monks to some purpose," saidRedwald. "Why, they have not a light about the place."

A loud and vigorous blast of horns was blown, while the greater part ofthe troop dismounted and paused impatiently for an answer from within.

"Two or three of you step forward with your axes," exclaimed Redwald.

They did so, and thundered on the gate without any success, so stoutlywas it made.

"What can it mean?" said Redwald. "All is silent as the grave."

"No; there is some one laughing at us," said Elfric.

A peal of merry laughter was heard within.

Redwald was thoroughly enraged, and seizing an axe with his own hand, heset the example of applying it to the gate, but without any result saveto split a few planks, while the iron framework, designed by Dunstanhimself, who was clever at such arts, held as firmly as ever.

Unprovided with other means of forcing it, the besiegers had recourse tofire, and gathering fuel with some difficulty, they piled it against thegate. Shortly the woodwork caught, and the whole gate presently yieldedto the action of the fire; the iron bars, loosened by the destruction ofthe woodwork, gave way, and the besiegers rushed into the quadrangle.Here, all was dark and silent, not a sound to be heard or a light seen.

"What can it mean? Have they fled? You all heard the laughter!"

"There it is again."

The boisterous and untimely mirth had begun just within the abbot'slodgings, and the doorway at the foot was immediately attacked. Itpresently yielded, and Redwald, who had obtained a good notion of theplace, rushed with his chief villains to the chamber he knew to beDunstan's; yet he began to fear failure, for the absence of all theinmates was disheartening. No, not all, for there was the loud laughterwithin the very chamber of the abbot.

The door was fastened securely, and while the axes were doing theirdestructive work upon it, the mocking laughter was again heard. Redwaldhad become so enraged that he mentally vowed the direst vengeance uponthe untimely jester, when the door burst open and he rushed in.

"Where is he? Surely there was some one here?"

"Who could it be? We all heard the laughter."

But victim there was none; and searching all the place in vain, they hadto satiate their vengeance by destroying the humble furniture of the abbot.

What to do next they knew not, and Redwald, deeply mystified, wasreluctantly forced to own his discomfiture, and to prepare to pass thenight in the abbey. Accordingly, his men dispersed in search of food andwine. Some found their way to the buttery; it was but poorly supplied,all the provisions in the place having been given to the poorer pilgrimsby the departing monks. The cellar was not so easily emptied, and suchwine as had been stored up for future use was at once appropriated.

Redwald and Elfric, having shared the common meal gloomily, were seatedin the abbot's chamber--little did Elfric dream that his brother hadso recently been in the same room--when one of the guards entered,bringing with him a stranger. He turned out to be a neighbouring thane,one of those bitter enemies to Dunstan whom Edwy had planted round themonastery, and he came to give information that he had seen Dunstan withfive companions escaping by the Foss Way.

Redwald jumped up eagerly. "How long since?" he asked.

"About two hours, and ten miles off, I was returning home from a distantfarm of mine."

"Why did you not stop them?"

"I was too weak for that; they were six to one. I heard you had beenseen coming here by a cowherd, and came to warn you. If you ride fastyou may catch the holy fox yet before he runs to earth; but you must bevery quick."

"What pace were they riding?"

"Slowly at that moment; it was up a hill."

Redwald rushed from the room, crying, "To horse, to horse!" but foundonly a portion of his men awake: the others were mainly drunk andsleeping it off on the floor.

Cursing their untimely indulgence, he got about a dozen men rapidlymounted on the fleetest horses, taking care Elfric should be one, anddashed off in pursuit of the fugitives.

Dunstan and his party had ridden some four or five hours, when the moonbecame overcast, and low peals of distant thunder were heard. Theatmosphere was so intensely hot, and the silence of nature sooppressive, that it was evident some convulsion was at hand.

"Is there any shelter near?"

"Only a ruined city [xxiv] in the wood on the left hand,but it is a dangerous place to approach after nightfall. They say evilspirits lurk there."

"They tell that story of every ruined place, be it city, temple, orhouse; and even if it be, we have more cause to dread evil men than evilspirits."

The guide hesitated no longer, and struck into a bypath, whichpenetrated the depth of the woody marsh through which the Foss Way thenhad its course. After a minute or two it became evident, from thefooting, that they were upon the paved work of a causeway overgrown withweeds and rank herbage; huge mounds showed where fortifications had onceexisted, and shortly, broken pillars and ruined walls appeared atirregular intervals.

They had little time to look around them, for the storm had come rapidlyup, and the glare of the lightning was incessant, while the rain poureddown in absolute torrents. Before them rose a huge ruin covered with ivyand with the roof partly protecting the interior. It was so large thatthey were able to lead their horses within its protection and wait thecessation of the rain.

Between the flashes the sky was intensely dark, but they were almostincessant, and revealed the city of the dead in which they had foundrefuge. It was an ancient Welsh town, and in the latter years of thedeadly struggle with the English, had been taken after a protractedresistance. Tradition had not even preserved its name, and only statedthat every living soul had perished in the massacre when the outer wallswere at length stormed and the town given to fire and sword. Thevictors, as was frequently the case, had avoided the spot, preferring tobuild elsewhere, and, like Silchester or Anderida, it had fallen intodesolation such as befell mighty Babylon.

And now the ignorant rustic peopled its buildings with the imaginaryforms of doleful creatures, and shunned the fatal precincts where oncefamily love and social affections had flourished; where hearts, longmouldered to dust, had beaten with tender affection, where all thelittle circumstances which make up life--the trivial round, the commontask--had gone on beneath the summer's sun or winter's storm, till thegreat convulsion which ended the existence of the whole community.

Dunstan noticed that his whole party crowded closely together, and whenthe lightning illuminated each face saw that fear had left its visible mark.

The continuous roar of thunder, the hissing of the descending rain, thewind which blew in angry gusts, prevented all conversation until nearlyan hour had elapsed, when the strife began to diminish. It was a sad andmournful sight to gaze upon the remains of departed greatness when thusilluminated by the electric flash, and easily might the fancy, deceivedby the transient glimpses of things, people the ruins with the shades oftheir departed inhabitants.

"Father," said Alfred, at length, "who were they who lived here? Do youknow aught about them?"

"The men whom our ancestors subdued--the Welsh, or British--anunhappy race."

"Were they heathen?"

"At one time, but they were converted by the missions from Rome and theEast, of which the earliest was that of St. Joseph of Arimathea to ourown Glastonbury; he may have preached to the very people who lived here,nay, in this very basilica, which, I think, may have been converted intoa church."

It was indeed the ruin of a basilica wherein they stood, but no tracesurvived to show whether Dunstan's conjecture was correct.

"It seems strange that God should have permitted them to fall before thesword of our heathen ancestors."

"Their own historian Gildas, who lies buried at Glastonbury, explainsit. He tells us that such was the corruption of faith and of moralstowards the close of their brief day, that had not the Saxon swordinterposed; plague, pestilence, or famine, or some similar calamity,must have done the fatal work. God grant that we, now that in turn wehave received the message of the Gospel, may be more faithful servants,or similar ruin may, at no distant period, await the Englishman also, asit did the Welshman."

He sighed deeply, and Alfred echoed the sigh in his heart; he read theabbot's thoughts.

"Do you believe," said he, after a pause, "that their spirits everrevisit the earth?"

"I know not; many wise men have thought it possible, and that they mayhaunt the places where they sinned, ever bearing their condemnationwithin them, even while they clothe themselves in semblance of themortal flesh they once wore."

The whole party shuddered, and Father Guthlac said, deprecatingly:

"My father, let us not talk of this now. We are too weak to bear it, andthe place is so awful!"

By this time the wind had made a huge rent in the black clouds overhead,and the moon came suddenly in sight, sailing tranquilly in the azurevoid above, and casting her beams on the ruins, as she had once castthem on the beauteous city; its basilicas, palaces, and temples yetstanding.

At this moment their guide came hastily to them.

"We are in some danger, father. Horsemen, twelve of them, are gallopingalong the Foss Way in spite of the storm."

Dunstan left the shelter, which was no longer needed, the rain havingceased, and followed the guide to the summit of the huge mound whichmarked the fall of some giant bastion of early days. From that positionthey could see the Foss Way, now about half-a-mile distant in the brightmoonlight, and Dunstan's eye at once caught twelve figures--horsemen--sweeping down it like the wind, which brought the sound of theirpassage faintly to the ear.

"Wait," he said, "and see whether they pass the bypath; in that case weare safe."

The whole party was now on the mound, their persons carefully concealedfrom the view of the horsemen, while they watched their passage withintense anxiety. The enemy reached the bypath; eleven of them passedover it, but the twelfth reined his horse suddenly, almost upon itshaunches, and pointed to the ground. He had evidently seen the tracks ofthe fugitives upon the soft turf.

The next moment they all turned their horses into the bypath.

"Follow," said the guide; and they all rushed eagerly down the mound andmounted at once.

"Follow me closely; I think I can save you from them; only lose not amoment."

The guide led them by a wandering path amongst the ruins, where theirtracks would leave the least trace, until he passed through a gap in theexternal fortifications on the opposite side. Then he rode rapidly alonga descending path in the woods, until the sound of rushing water greetedtheir ears, and they arrived on the brink of a small river which wasswollen by the violent rain, and which dashed along an irregular andstony bed with fearful impetuosity.

There was but one mode of crossing it: a bridge constructed of plankswas thrown over, which one horseman might pass at a time. The wholeparty rode over in safety, although the crazy old bridge bent terriblybeneath the weight of each rider.

But when all were over, the guide motioned to Alfred and Oswy to remainbehind for one moment, while the monks proceeded. He threw himself fromhis horse, and taking the axe which he had slung behind him, commencedhacking away at the bridge. But although the bridge was old, yet it wastough; and although Alfred, and Oswy who was armed with a smallbattle-axe, assisted with all their might, the work seemed long.

Before it was completed, they heard the voices of their pursuers callingto each other amongst the ruins. They had evidently lost the track, andwere separating to find it.

Crash went one huge plank into the raging torrent, then a second, andbut one beam remained, when a horseman emerged from the trees opposite,and by the light of the moon Alfred recognised his brother.

Desperate in the excitement of the chase, Elfric leapt from his horse,and drawing his sword rushed upon the bridge.

Alfred, who felt it tremble, cried:

"Back, Elfric! Back if you value your life!" while at the same moment,true to his duty, without raising his axe or any other attempt atoffence, he opposed his own body in passive resistance to Elfric'spassage over the beam.

Elfric knew the voice, and drew back in utter amazement. He had alreadystepped from the half-severed beam, when he saw it bend, break, androll, with Alfred, who had advanced to the middle of the bridge, intothe torrent beneath, which swept both beam and man away with resistlessforce.

CHAPTER XIII. THE RETURN OF ALFRED.

The reader is, we trust, somewhat impatient to learn the fate of Alfredof Aescendune, whom we left in so critical a position.

The fall of the bridge was so sudden and unexpected, that he scarcelyknew where he was, till he found himself sucked rapidly down stream bythe raging waters, when he struck out like a man, and battled for dearlife. But the only result seemed to be that he was bruised and batteredagainst the rocks and stones, until, exhausted, he was on the point ofsuccumbing to his fate, as the current bore him into a calm deep pool,where he sank helplessly, his strength gone. But the guide and hiscompanion Oswy had succeeded in reaching the spot, which wasinaccessible from the other side, and plunging at once into the waters,the latter succeeded in bringing the dying youth to land. Dunstan andthe other members of the party were soon on the spot; the lay brotherwas skilled in the art of restoring suspended animation, and they soonhad the happiness of beholding Alfred return to consciousness; he raisedhis head, and gazed about him like one in a dream, not able to realisehis position.

"Where am I? What have I been doing?" he exclaimed.

"You are safe, my dear son, and in the hands of friends," repliedDunstan, "although you have had a narrow, narrow escape; we are securefor the present from our foes."

They consulted together in low tones as to their future movements, andthe abbot inquired particularly of the guide concerning the fords andbridges.

"There is a ford only a mile or two away, but I expect they will findthey cannot cross it."

"Is there no place of refuge near? He is unable to sit his horse."

"There is a cottage close by, kept by a cowherd, who is a good and trueman."

"Then lead us to it at once," replied Dunstan.

Alfred had by this time recognised his position, and he implored Dunstannot to endanger his own safety for his sake; but the abbot paid noattention. They reached the cottage just as the day was dawning, and theeast was bright with rosy light. It was such a place as the great king,after whom Alfred was named, had found refuge in when pressed by theDanes. It was poor, but neat and clean beyond the usual degree; and whenthe wants of their early visitors were known, and Dunstan wasrecognised, the utmost zeal was displayed in his cause.

All that could be done for Alfred was done at once, but he wasmanifestly too shaken and bruised to be able to travel; and, giving himhis fatherly blessing, Dunstan was compelled by the guide to hurry on,leaving him in the care of Oswy.

They had not, however, great fear of their pursuers, for their ownhorses were comparatively fresh after the rest in the ruined city, andthose of their foes would be necessarily fatigued, after the rapid ridealong the Foss Way, and their exertions to pass the stream.

So it was not with great uneasiness, well mounted as they were, that,gaining the road, they beheld their pursuers in the distance, who, ontheir part, beholding their intended victims afar off, hastened to spurtheir horses on.

It was useless: the pursued had the advantage, and after the gallop of amile or two, it became evident they were in no especial danger, althoughit must be remembered that a false step or slip, or any accident, wouldhave been fatal.

"I should not mind racing them down the Foss to the Sea Town," [xxv]said the guide; "but if the abbot has no objection, I should preferleaving them to pursue the road, while we take a cross-country route,which I have often travelled; it is a very good one."

"By all means," said Dunstan, "and then we may slacken this furious pace."

They were quite out of sight of their pursuers when, coming upon a trackof dry stony ground, they suddenly left the road, and crossing a wildheath, put a copse between them and the enemy, who did not this timediscover for miles the absence of the footprints, for the soil was verydry and hard, the storm not having passed that way, and the foe wereintent upon hard riding.

So they gained a long start, and eventually reached a hill, from whichthey obtained their first view of the sea. It was eventide, and thewestern sun, sinking towards the promontories beyond the distant Exe,reddened the waters with his glowing light. Dunstan and his brethrenthanked God.

"We have come to the setting sun," said they, "and at eventide have seenlight; let us thank Him Who hath preserved us."

But the guide, who knew what relentless pursuers were yet behind, wouldallow them no rest. In another hour they reached a small fishing villageon the coast, where a solitary bark was kept. The owner was just aboutto put out for an evening's fishing, but at the earnest request of hisvisitors, backed by much gold, he consented to take them over to theopposite coast.

"The weather promises to be very clear and fine," he said; "and we maysail across without any danger."

It was indeed a lovely night; they stepped on board, the anchor wasloosed, the sail set, and with the wind behind, they stood rapidly outto sea. They were quite silent, each immersed in his own thoughts. Atlast they heard the sound of horsemen galloping on the fast-recedingshore, and looking back, they saw twelve riders reach the beach, andpause, looking wistfully out to sea.

"Our soul is escaped, even as a bird out of the snare of the fowler; thesnare is broken, and we are delivered," said Dunstan.

"Our help standeth in the name of the Lord, Who hath made heaven andearth," replied Father Guthlac.

Meanwhile, Alfred rapidly gained strength. Happily no bones were broken,he was only sadly bruised. The next day he expressed his earnest wish toreturn home, but his host would not permit him, saying he should have toanswer to Dunstan some day for his guest.

The time passed monotonously enough that second day, yet notunpleasantly: there were a thousand things to observe in the woods andmarshes around, full of animal life.

Early in the morning, a sweet fresh morning, the cowherd drove hiscattle forth to graze, where he knew the pastures were sweetest, andAlfred would willingly have gone, too, but they told him he must rest.So he took his breakfast of hot milk and bread, with oat cakes baked onthe hearth, and waited patiently till the warmth of the day tempted himout, under the care of Oswy, to watch the distant herd, to drink of theclear spring or recline under some huge spreading beech, while thebreeze made sweet melodies in his ears, and lulled him pleasantly to sleep.

At midday they returned to the customary dinner, which was not of suchinferior quality as one would now expect to find in such a place,contrasting strongly with the fare on the tables of the rich: then therewas far more equality in the food of rich and poor, and Alfred had nocause to complain of the cowherd's table.

Then he sauntered forth again with Oswy, and strove to amuse himselfwith the book of nature; till just at eventide, as he was longingearnestly that he could know the fate of his fugitive friends, theyheard the sound of a horse at full trot, and soon the guide appeared insight.

Alfred rose up eagerly.

"Are they safe?" he cried.

"Yes, quite safe; they had got a mile out to sea when their pursuers gotto the beach; I saw it all, hidden in a woody hill above."

"Did they try to follow?"

"They could not, there was no boat: I never saw men in such a rage."

Alfred felt as if a weight were removed from his heart, then he lookedup in the face of the guide.

"Will you guide us home?" he said.

"Yes," was the reply; "the holy abbot particularly desired me to returnto his son Alfred, and to take care of him on his journey home; and ifyou will have me as your guide, I will warrant you a safe journey toAescendune, for we are not worth following."

"Then let us start tomorrow morning," said Alfred, longing to be oncemore in his old father's presence, and to cheer his mother's heart.

They returned together to the cowherd's cottage, and slept peacefullythat night. Early in the morning they retook the path to the Foss Way,crossing the stream at a ford higher up. Their horses being well restedand full of spirit for the journey, they passed Glastonbury, still emptyand desolate, in the middle of the day, and retraced by easy stages thewhole of Alfred's previous route from home.

After a week's easy travelling, by the blessing of Providence, theyreached the neighbourhood of Aescendune: it had never looked so lovely,so home-like to Alfred as then. He felt as if every spot were full ofjoy, and as he was recognised by person after person, by his favouritedogs as they bounded forth, and finally fell into his mother's arms atthe gate of the hall, he experienced feelings which in these days, whenwe are all so familiar with the thought of travel, can seldom be realised.

Then he had to recount his adventures that night, after supper, to anadmiring audience, who listened enraptured to his account of theholiness of Dunstan and the cruelty of his foes. But it will easily beimagined that he made no allusion to his rencontre with Elfric; andOswy, instructed by his young master, was equally silent.

He had quite made up his mind to persevere in this course: it could dono good to tell father or mother how grievously Elfric had fallen, andhow nearly he had been the involuntary instrument of his brother's death.

"God can change his heart," said Alfred to himself, "and bring him homelike the prodigal son about whom Father Cuthbert talks so often."

So he prayed earnestly every day for his brother, and many asupplication on his behalf arose from the altar of St. Wilfred. Timewill show whether they were lost.

CHAPTER XIV. EDWY AND ELGIVA.

Edwy, King of England, and Elgiva, his queen, gave a great feast attheir royal palace in London, a month after the events recorded in ourlast chapter; and a numerous company had assembled to do honour to theirhospitality. Yet the company was very different from that which hadassembled round the same hospitable board in the days of King Edred.First, the Churchmen were conspicuous by their absence; and secondly,all the old grey-headed counsellors, who had been the pride and ornamentof the reigns of Edmund and Edred, were not seen; for, after the rumourof their marriage had reached Odo, he had pronounced the sentence of thelesser excommunication upon them, severing them from the sacraments; andthis was felt by the old counsellors of Edred to be a most seriousstigma, yet one which they could not call undeserved: hence theydeserted the court.

In their place were the young and giddy, the headstrong sons of wiserfathers, the spendthrifts, the young fops of the period, those who wentin for a fast life, to use a modern phrase--who spent the night, ifnot the day, over the wine cup, and consumed their substance in riotousliving--such were they who gathered around Edwy the Fair and the yetfairer Elgiva.

And truly king and queen more beautiful in person had never sat upon athrone; and it was difficult to look upon them and feel aught butadmiration, save when one knew all their history, and then pity andsorrow might supply the place of admiration, at least with the sober minded.

Fish, flesh, and fowl; nought was wanting. The earth the air, and thewater, all yielded their tribute; for was it not the anniversary of themarriage--the uncanonical marriage, alas!--of the royal pair, ifmarriage it had truly been?

Eels of enormous size, fine as the Roman lamprey, pike roasted withpuddings in their bellies, tench and carp stewed; while the sea yieldedits skate, its sturgeon, and its porpoise, which the skill of the cookhad so curiously dressed with fragrant spices that it won him greatrenown. The very smell, said a young gourmand, was a dinner in itself;and the wild buck supplied its haunch, and the boar its head, while fowlof all kinds were handed round on spits.

The drinking was of like sumptuous character, and Rhenish wine contendedwith the wines of sunny France for precedence, as they were passed roundin silver cups and gold-mounted horns; for glass was seldom, if ever,used for such purposes then.

The floor was strewed with the sweetest summer flowers, and exhaled anodour balmy as the breath of eastern climes, where the breeze plays withthe orange blossoms. The tapestry was beautifully woven by foreignartists, and represented the loves of the gods; while there was nothingin keeping with the olden style throughout the whole apartment.

But one seat was vacant near the king's throne, and every now and thenEdwy seemed to cast a wistful eye upon it, as if he would fain see itsordinary occupant there.

The gleemen rose and sang, the harpers harped, but something waswanting; they brought tears to the eyes of the fair queen by theirplaintive songs of hapless lovers, which had superseded alike the warsongs of Athelstane and the monkish odes of Edred.

"Where is Elfric? He promised to be back by our wedding day; why does hedelay, my Edwy?" asked Elgiva.

"It is little less than treason to the queen of youth and beauty to bethus absent, my Elgiva, but remember he has been unwell, and Redwaldtold me that for prudential reasons they delayed his return to court."

"And your brother Edgar--"

"Is somewhere in Mercia: the churlish boy has declined our invitation tohonour our feast with his presence. We do not want his serious face atthe board. I am sure he would preach on the duty of fasting."

"He has but seldom been our visitor."

"No; he is afraid, perhaps, to trust his cold heart within the magic ofmy Elgiva's sunshine, lest the ice should be melted."

These had been asides, while all the company were listening to thegleeman; but now Edwy threw himself heart and soul into the currentconversation, and all went merry as a marriage peal, until theceremoniarius--for Edwy loved formality in some things--threw openthe folding doors and announced the captain of the hus-carles, andElfric of Aescendune.

The whole company rose to receive them, and Elfric in particularreceived a warm welcome; but it was at once seen that there was a markedconstraint upon him: his eye was restless and uneasy, and he seemed likeone carrying a load at his breast.

In truth, since that fatal night when, as he believed, he had witnessedthe death of his brother, he had striven in vain to drown care and tobanish remorse: the thought of his aged father deprived of both his sons--the one by death, the other by desertion--would force its wayunbidden to his mind. Still, he had determined to throw aside reserve inhonour of the occasion, and he made heroic efforts to appear happy and gay.

Redwald was at his ease, as usual in all company, and seemed to causeprodigious laughter as he told his adventures to the younger folk at thebottom of the board. Dark and malign as his demeanour usually was, yethe could affect a light and airy character at times.

"Redwald, my trusty champion," said Edwy, "this is the first campaignthou hast ever returned from unsuccessful. Tell us, how did Dunstanoutwit you?"

"By the aid of the devil, my liege."

"Doubtless; but we had all hoped for a different result, and that thouwouldst either have left the traitor no eyes in his head, or no head onhis shoulders.

"Said I not rightly, my Elgiva?"

The eyes of the fair enemy of the abbot flashed fire, and she exchangedsome very significant words with her mother, Ethelgiva, who occupied thenext chair.

"Come, my fairy-given [xxvi] one, you must not be too hardon Redwald, who doubtless did his best--

"How was it, Elfric?"

"The devil was certainly on Dunstan's side: he and no other could havebetrayed our coming, for betrayed it was."

"How long had he left when you reached the abbey?"

"Only an hour or two; but there was a sound of mocking laughter,doubtless caused by his incantations, which kept us for some hoursforcing doors and the like."

"And you could discover no cause?"

"None whatever; however, we found he had taken the Foss Way for thecoast, and followed, and nearly caught him."

"What prevented you?"

Elfric turned pale as if with great mental emotion, and tried to proceedin vain.

"You are not well," said Elgiva, anxiously.

"Not quite," he said; and then, overcoming his feelings by a vigorouseffort, while no one save Redwald suspected the true cause, he continued:

"There had been a great storm, and they had broken down the only bridgewhich existed for miles over a swollen river: we lost hours."

"And yet, as your messengers told us, you arrived in time to see himleave the coast."

"The vessel which bore him was still distinctly in sight when we stoodon the sands."

"But had you no means of following?"

"None: it was a lonely fishing village with a small harbour, and hisbark was a mere fishing smack, the only one of the place."

"I trust the sea has swallowed him," said the king; "but there is arumour today that he is playing the saint in Flanders with great pomp.Well, only let him show his face in England again, and the devil maypinch my nose with his tongs if I leave him a head on his shoulders: heshall be a sacrifice to your outraged dignity, my Elgiva."

"And yours, my Edwy."

Husband and wife were quite agreed on this subject: they had neverforgiven Dunstan in the least degree, and, identifying him withreligion, had well-nigh abjured it altogether.

The ordinary dishes being now removed, the guests all partook lavishlyof wine, and, their heads already heated, yielded entirely to theexcitement of the moment. Toast after toast was drunk to the king: hewas compared to Apollo for his beauty, and Elgiva to Venus, while theold northern mythology was ransacked also for appellations in honour ofthe youthful pair.

Adjoining, in the outer hall, the higher domestics had their music anddancing, and the king and queen came to honour the entertainment bytheir presence. So the happy hours wore away, and at length the companywere on the eve of departure, for fatigue was making itself felt, whenan ominous blowing of a horn was heard at the outer gate.

A pause, during which the company looked at each other, so strangely hadthe sound struck them, and yet they knew not why, save that it was anunlikely hour for such an occurrence.

There was one only who knew what the message would probably be--Redwald; and he had kept the secret purposely from the king.

The doors opened, and an usher brought in a messenger who had only beenallowed a moment to change a dusty dress, ere he broke into the presenceof royalty.

"Speak," said Edwy, as the messenger bowed before him, and kissed his hand.

"My lord and king--" and the messenger glanced at Elgiva.

"Let him speak, Edwy, my lord. Are we not one? What you can bear, yourwife must bear also."

Thus adjured, the messenger spoke his news.

"Mercia has revolted, and proclaimed Edgar king."

"The cause alleged?"

"I know not, my lord."

"I can tell you," said Redwald; "the banishment of the holy fox,Dunstan, and very shame prevents my adding that--"

"No more," said Edwy; "I can guess the rest."

He wished to spare Elgiva.

He walked up and down the hall several times. His festive air had gone.

"And on my wedding day, too," he said. "Redwald, you knew this."

"Yes, my lord, but I wished to spare my king upon his wedding day, stillI have not spared myself. The necessary steps are taken, your immediatevassals are summoned, and my own men are ready to march; we will sweepthese rebels off the field."

"Elfric," said the king, "you must be my right hand in the field: youwill be ready to invade your native Mercia tomorrow. Think you your ownfriends are firm?"

"My father, although he has disowned me, would never disown his lawfulking; the duty and love he bore to your murdered father would forbid."

"Well, Redwald, have you known this many hours?"

"I heard it at the frontier town of Mercia, Reading, last night, andtook all my measures immediately."

"Then, can we really depend upon Wessex?"

"I treat so indeed, my lord, else we should be in a very bad way indeed."

"Well, we must rest now. Elgiva, darling, this is a cold termination toour first anniversary, but your husband's love shall ever protect youuntil he be cold in death.

"Goodnight, Elfric, be ready for the morrow.

"Goodnight, Redwald, trustiest warrior who ever served grateful lord.

"Goodnight, gentlemen all."

And thus the royal party broke up, and thus ended the first anniversaryof the ill-starred union.

On the morrow all was haste and confusion in the royal palace. Elgivadeparted early for Winchester, which, being farther removed from thefrontier, was safer than London from any sudden excursion on the part ofthe Mercians, and the city was also devoted to the royal family. Thecitizens of London were directed to provide for the defence of theircity, while the royal guards, attended by the immediate vassals of thecrown, prepared to march into the heart of the rebellious district.

It is too often supposed that the feudal system was of Normanimportation, whereas its very foundation--the act of homage, or of"becoming your man,"--was brought by the Saxons and Angles from theirGerman home. The lord was the protector of the vassal, but the vassalwas bound to attend his feudal superior both in peace and war.

So imperative was this obligation, that a vassal who abandoned his lordin the field of battle was liable to the death of a traitor.

Therefore Edwy soon found himself at the head of a compact body of tenthousand men, all bound to stand by him to death. But there was one verydisheartening circumstance, which attracted notice. No volunteers joinedthe little army, although a royal proclamation had promised lands fromthe territories of the rebels to each successful combatant in the causeof Edwy and Elgiva.

The fear of the Church hung on all, the conviction that the law of bothChurch and State had been broken by the young king; the universal beliefin the sanctity of Dunstan, and in the true patriotism of Odo whom theycalled "the good;" the thoughtless misgovernment since the wisercounsellors had dispersed--all these things weakened the hearts of thefollowers of Edwy.

There was therefore but little enthusiasm when the inhabitants saw thesoldiers of the king march out by the Watling Street, and the soldiersthemselves looked dispirited.

It was early dawn on the second day from the feast that the departuretook place. Cynewulf, a valiant Earl of Wessex, was the real commander;nominally, Edwy commanded in person, and Elfric rode out of London byhis side. Redwald's rank would not have entitled him to the chief command.

Passing through the environs of the city, they gained the open country,and marched steadily along the causeway the Romans had so firmly laid,until they reached Verulam or St. Alban's, where they passed the night.It excited great discontent amongst the inhabitants that Edwy did notvisit the shrine of the saint, the glory of their town; and hisdeparture again took place amidst gloomy silence.

They were now about to cross the frontier and enter Mercia, then in manyrespects an independent state; governed, it might be, by the samemonarch and Witan as Wessex, even as Scotland and England are governedby the same sovereign and Parliament, yet retaining like them its ownpeculiar code of laws in many respects.

And now Mercia had sternly refused to be governed any longer by the"enemy of the Church," and chose the Etheling, Edgar, to be its king.

Acting with the sanction of Odo, whom he deeply revered, the youngEdgar, then only in his fifteenth year, accepted the offer, and thewhole force of Mercia was gathering to support him when Edwy crossed theborder.

It must not be supposed that either Cynewulf or Redwald expected toconquer the Mercians with ten thousand men. No, their design wassimpler: they had learned where Edgar was residing, and that the forcesaround him were small. One bold stroke might secure his person, and thenEdwy might make his own terms. This was the secret of the advice theyboth gave to the young king.

Redwald had, as we shall see, deep designs of his own to serve also, butthey had been locked for years in his own breast, and no servant couldseem more trusty and faithful than he did, or act with more energy inhis master's cause.

The forces of Edwy, as we have related, left St. Alban's on the secondmorning, and travelled, horse and foot, very rapidly all that day.

Crossing the Icknield Street at Dunstable, where the remains of a hugetemple, once sacred to Diana, were visible, they entered Mercia, andsoon reached Towcester, a town which had been walled round by KingAthelstane; here they found no force prepared to receive them, and thetown opened its gates at once.

They tarried here for a day, while they sent scouts and spies in alldirections, many of whom never returned. The troops were quarteredfreely upon the inhabitants, who were evidently very hostile; and, inreturn, the soldiers of Edwy insulted the women and bullied the men.Every hour some quarrel arose, and generally ended in bloodshed; thecitizens being commonly the victims.

Late at night messengers arrived at the royal quarters, bringinginformation that Edgar was at Alcester, the ancient Alauna, beyond theAvon, and that Osric, the great Earl of Mercia, was with him collectingtroops.

A council was held at once, and it was decided to leave the WatlingStreet and to march for the Avon by cross-country routes. They restedthat night amidst the ruins of the ancient Brinavae, and here anothercouncil was held, to deliberate on their future movements, and it wasdecided to march westward at once, for tidings came that Edgar's forceswere rapidly increasing, and prudence suggested prompt measures. Edwywas becoming very anxious.

The route for the next day was then made out and, with beating heart,Elfric learned that they purposed crossing the river not far fromAescendune.

"Elfric, my friend," said Edwy, "there will be a chance for you to visitAescendune, and to obtain the old man's forgiveness."

He said this with a slight sneer.

"I cannot go there; I would die first."

Edwy started at the tone of deep feeling with which the words were said;he knew nothing of the rencontre of Elfric with his brother.

"Still I think that I must spend this coming night there, and I will tryand act the Christian for the occasion: perhaps I may do you a goodturn, while I renew my acquaintance with your people."

In his very heart Elfric wished that Edwy might never arrive there, yethe knew not what to say.

"Well," said the prince, observing his hesitation, "you may go on withCynewulf and the main body of the army, which will cross the Avon higherup, and I will make excuse that your duties detain you. I must go--Ihave special reasons, I wish at least to secure the fidelity of the few--and Redwald will accompany me; we join the army on the morrow,without losing any time by the move."

And so the matter was settled.

CHAPTER XV. THE ROYAL GUEST.

It was the morning of the first of August, and the sun, dispersing theearly mists, gave promise of a bright summer day.

The inhabitants of Aescendune, lord and vassals alike, were astir fromthe early daybreak; for that day the harvest was to be commenced, andthe crops were heavier than had been known for many a year. A goodharvest meant peace and prosperity in those times, a bad harvest famine,and perhaps rebellion; for if the home crop failed, commerce did not, asnow, supply the deficiency.

So it was with joy and gladness that the people went forth that day toreap with their sharp sickles in their hands, while the freshness of theearly morn filled each heart insensibly with energy and life. The cornfell on the upland before their sharp strokes, while behind each reaperthe younger labourers gathered it into sheaves.

Old Ella stood in their midst looking on the familiar scene, while hispious heart returned many a fervent thanksgiving to the Giver of allgood. Under the shade of some spreading beeches, which bordered thefield, the domestics from the manor house were spreading the banquet forthe reapers--mead and ale, corn puddings prepared in various modeswith milk, huge joints of cold roast beef--for the hour when toilshould have sharpened the appetite of the whole party.

By the side of his father stood young Alfred administering with filialaffection to all his wants, as if he felt constrained to supply a doubleservice in his own person now that Elfric was no more, or, at least,dead to home ties.

Thicker and thicker fell the wheat, and they thought surely such heavysheaves had never fallen to their lot before.

At last the blowing of a horn summoned all the reapers to their dinner,and when Father Cuthbert had said grace, the whole party fell to--thethane at the head of them; and when the desire of eating and drinkingwas appeased, the labourers lay on the grass, in the cool shade, to passaway the hour of noontide heat, before resuming their toil.

"Father," said Alfred, "a horseman is coming."

"My old eyes are somewhat dim; I do not see any one approaching."

"Nor I, as yet, but I hear him; listen, he is just crossing the brook; Ican hear the splashing."

"Some royal messenger, perhaps, from Edgar or from Edwy, my son. I fearsuch may be the case; yet I wish I could be left in peace, afar from thestrife which must convulse the land, if the ill-advised brothers cannotagree to reign--the one over Mercia, the other over Wessex."

"We have repeatedly said that we should be quite neutral, father."

"And yet, my son, we offend both parties, and, I fear me, we shall beforced to defend ourselves in the end. But God is our refuge andstrength, a very present help in trouble. And now that I am old I canlean more and more upon Him. He will be a father to you, my Alfred, whenthese hoary hairs are hidden in the grave."

It was seldom that the old thane expressed his devotion in this strain;it seemed to Alfred as if there were a foreboding of coming trial in it,and he felt as when a cloud veils the face of the sun in early spring.

The messenger now came in sight--a tall, resolute looking man, wellarmed and well mounted, and evidently bound for the hall. But when hesaw the party beneath the trees he bent his course aside, and salutingthe thane with all deference, inquired if he spoke to Ella of Aescendune.

"I am he," replied Ella. "I trust you are not the bearer of other thangood tidings; but will you first refresh yourself, since it is illtalking between the full and the fasting?"

"With gladness do I accept your bounty; for I have ridden since earlydawn, and rider and horse are both exhausted."

"There is corn for your horse, and food and wine for his master.

"Uhred, take charge of the steed.

"Alfred, my son, place that best joint of beef before the stranger, andthose wheaten cakes.

"I drink to you, fair sir."

The messenger seemed in no hurry to open his tale until he had eaten anddrunk, and it was with the greatest patience that the thane, who was oneof nature's gentlemen, awaited his leisure.

At length the messenger looked up, and pushed his wooden platter aside.

"I have come to be the bearer of good tidings to you, noble thane. Edwy,your king, with a small troop of horse, his royal retinue, proposeshonouring your roof with his presence, and asks bed and board of hisloyal subject, Ella of Aescendune."

"The king's will is my law; and since it pleases the son of my latebeloved master, King Edmund, to visit me, he shall find no lack ofhospitality. But may I ask what sudden event has brought him into theheart of our country?"

"He comes to chastise rebellion. A large force of several thousand mencrosses the river a few miles higher this evening, and, not to incommodeyou with numbers, King Edwy comes apart from his followers."

Although he foresaw grave inconvenience, and even danger, in theproposal, yet Ella could not appear churlish and inhospitable;therefore, learning from the messenger that the king might be expectedbefore sunset, he returned home to make such preparations as shouldsuggest themselves for the entertainment of his royal master, for so hestill would have styled Edwy, deeply as he felt he had been wronged by him.

"Father," said Alfred, as he walked homeward by his side, "think youElfric will be in his train? I wish he may be."

"Alas, my son! I fear I shall never see poor Elfric again. My mindalways seems to misgive me when I think of him; and I have so strong aforeboding that he has received my last blessing, that I cannot overcomeit. No, Alfred, I fear we shall not see Elfric tonight."

No more was said upon the subject; they reached the hall in good time,and startled the lady Edith by their tidings.

Instantly all was in preparation: the best casks of wine were broached,fowls and wild birds alike had cause to lament that their lives wereshortened, chamberlain and cook were busy, clean rushes were brought into adorn the floor of the hall, sweet flowers and aromatic grass forthat of the royal bedchamber; and it was not till a flourish of trumpetsannounced the approach of the cavalcade that all was ready, and themaidens and men servants, arrayed in their best holiday attire, stoodgrouped without the gate to receive their king.

At last the glitter of the departing ray upon pointed lances announcedthe approach, and soon the whole party might be seen--a hundred horseaccompanying the king's person, and one or two nobles of distinction,including Redwald, riding by his side.

When the train first reached the spot from which the castle was visible,a strange thing occurred. The king's eyes were fixed upon Redwald, and,to the royal astonishment, the whole frame of that worthy seemed shakenby a sudden emotion. His countenance became pale, his lips werecompressed, and his eyes seemed to dart fire.

"What is the matter, my Redwald?" asked the king.

"Oh, nothing, my lord!" said he, resuming his wonted aspect withdifficulty, but at last becoming calm as a lake when the wind has diedaway. "Only a sudden spasm."

"I hope you are not ill?"

"No, my lord; you need not really feel anxious concerning me.

"The hall of Aescendune appears a pleasant place for a summerresidence," he added.

"I have been there before," said the king. "Spent some weeks there. Yes;I thought it a great change for the better then, after the musty odourof sanctity which reigned in the palace of my uncle the monk, but allthings go by comparison. I might not relish a month there now."

"Yet it looks like a place formidable for its kind, and it might not beamiss to persuade the worthy old thane to receive a garrison there, sothat if the worst came to the worst we might have a place of refuge,otherwise the Mercians would soon have possession of it."

"Ella is one of themselves."

"But the rebel Edgar may not forgive him for entertaining us!"

"He can hardly help himself. Still, the smoke of those fires, which, Itrust, betokens good cheer; and the peaceful aspect of that party comingout to meet us, in the midst of whom I recognise old Ella and his sonAlfred, Elwy's brother, does not look much like compulsion."

"Making the best of a bad bargain, perhaps."

"I prefer to think otherwise."

At this moment the two parties met, and Edwy at once dismounted from hiscourser with that bewitching and kingly grace which became "Edwy theFair." He advanced gracefully to the old thane, and, presenting thecustomary mark of homage, embraced him as a son might embrace a father--"For," said he, "Elfric has taught me to revere you as a father evenif Aescendune had not taught me before then. I robbed you of your son,now I offer you two sons, Elfric and myself."

The tears stood in the old man's eyes at this reception, and the mentionof his dear prodigal son.

"He is well, I hope?" said he, striving to speak with such sternness anddignity as sell-respect taught in opposition to natural feeling.

"Well and happy; and I trust you will see him in a day or two, when weshall have chastised our rebels; justice, mingled with mercy, must firsthave its day."

"Where is he now?"

"With the main body of the army; in fact, he is my right hand. It is myfault, not his, that he is not here now; but we could not both leave,and he preferred that I should come and proffer my filial duty first,and perhaps that I should assure you of his love and duty, howeverappearances may have seemed against him."

Then the eye of Edwy caught Alfred. It must be remembered that Elfrichad kept the secret of his brother's supposed death, even from the king.

"And of Alfred, too, I have ever been reminded by his brother; your namehas seldom been long absent from our conversation."

Alfred reddened.

"I trust now," he continued, "that I may profitably renew anacquaintance suspended for three years. I am but young, only in myeighteenth year, and I have no father; let me find one in the wisest ofthe Mercians."

So bewitching was the grace of the fair speaker that he seemed to carryall before him. Ella began to think he must have misjudged the king.Alfred alone, who knew much more of the relations between the king andthe Church than his father, still suspended his belief in these mostgracious words.

Leaning upon the still powerful arm of Ella, his young agile formcontrasting strongly with the powerful build of the old thane--powerful even in decay--they came in front of the hall, where theserfs and vassals all received them with joyful acclamations, and amidstthe general homage the king entered the hall.

Then he was conducted to his chamber, where the bath was provided forhim, and unguents for anointing himself, after which, accepting the loanof a change of clothing more suitable than his travelling apparel, hereceived the visit of Ella, who came to conduct him to the banquet.

All this while his followers had been received according to theirseveral degrees; and a board was spread, of necessity, in a barn, forthe due feasting of the soldiers of Edwy and the vassals of Aescendune;while the officers and the chief tenants of the family met at the royaltable in the great hall once before introduced to our readers.

It boots not to repeat an oft-told tale, to describe the banquet in allits prodigal luxury, to tell how light the casks in the cellars ofAescendune seemed afterwards, how empty the larder; suffice it to saythat in due course the banquet was ended, the toasts were drunk, and,with an occasional interlude in the gleeman's song and the harper's wildmusic, the conversation was at its height. Wine and wassail unloosedmen's tongues.

Redwald sat near the king, who had introduced him to Ella as a dearfriend both to him and his son--"a very Mentor," he said, "who, sincethe unhappy quarrel into which my counsellors forced me--yes, forcedme--with Dunstan, has done more to keep Elfric and me straight in ourmorals than at one time I should have thought possible for any man to do.

"Redwald, you need not blush; it is true, and your king is proud to own it."

Redwald was not exactly blushing; he had spent the interval before thebanquet in looking eagerly and wistfully all round the house, and nowhis countenance had a cold composure, which made it seem as if he hadnever known emotion; still he answered fittingly to the king's humour:

"Alack, my lord, such credit is due only to the blessed saints,especially St. Wilfred, whom you first learned to love at Aescendune, asyou have often told me."

"Yes," said Edwy; "you remember, Ella, how I used to steal away evenfrom the chase, and visit his chapel at the priory which your worthyfather founded. Truly, I mused upon the saint so much that I marvel heappeared not to me; I think he did once."

"Indeed!" exclaimed his auditors.

"Yes; I had been musing upon my condition as a poor orphan boy, deprivedof my brave father--he was your friend, Ella!--when methought afigure in the dress of a very ancient bishop, stood beside me, yetimmaterial as the breeze of evening. 'Thy prayer is heard' said he tome; 'thou hast brought many gifts to St. Wilfred; he shall send theeone, even a friend.' It was fulfilled in Elfric."

"Truly, it was marvellous," said Father Cuthbert, who listened with openmouth. "I doubt not it was our sainted patron."

Alfred said nothing; his recollections of Edwy's days at Aescendune didnot embrace many hours in the chapel of St. Wilfred.

The great wonderment of Ella may be conceived: he had always mournedover Edwy as a headstrong youth, dead to religion, and now he was calledupon to contemplate him in so different a light. The reader may wonderat his credulity, but if he had listened to the sweet voice of thebeautiful king, had gazed into that innocent-looking face--those eyeswhich always seemed to meet the gaze, and never lowered themselves orbetrayed their owner--he would, perhaps, have been deceived too; yetEdwy was overdoing it, and a look from Redwald warned him of the fact.He took the other line.

"Alas!" he said, "I have been very very unworthy of St. Wilfred's fondinterest in me, and may have done very rash things; but some day thesaint may rejoice in me again, and then he shall not find in me arebellious son."

Further than this he was not disposed to go, for in truth he felthimself sickened by his very success in deceit, although half disposedto be proud of it at the same time. But Redwald had taken up theconversation.

"These halls of yours seem old, venerable thane; has your family longdwelt under this hospitable roof?"

"My remote ancestor fought by the side of Cynric in the victories whichled to the foundation of Mercia."

"Ah! many a sad yet glorious tale and legend for the gleeman's harp,doubtless, adorns your annals."

"Not many; we have our traditions."

"For instance, is there one connected with the foundation of the prioryhard by?"

"It is of recent date, my father built it."

"Strange, for generally these old places are reared up by repentantsinners, mourning over the sins they have committed, or the day of gracethey have cast away; is there no tale attached to your foundation?"

"Alas! there is; but it is one whose stain is all too recent, one wecannot recount, or suffer gleeman's harp to set to music, lest we harrowthe yet bleeding wound."

Redwald could not ask more; the answer was too plain and distinct, andso he was forced to repress his curiosity.

The conversation then became desultory and, finally, when the gleemenbegan the well known _piece de resistance_, the battle of Brunanburgh,Edwy yawned and Redwald looked sleepy, while the old thane actuallyslept in his huge armchair, and was awakened only by the cessation ofthe music and singing.

Even in the presence of royalty itself Ella did not suffer the companyto disperse before the chaplain had said the customary compline service,after which the guard was doubled at the door, and soon the wholehousehold was buried in sweet and peaceful sleep.

Yet, although they knew it not, they nourished the deadliest foe oftheir race in the bosom of the family. There was one at least who couldnot sleep that night who now paced his narrow chamber, now looked forthat the meadows, woods, and hills, sleeping in the summer twilight; now,unchecked, burst into the wildest excitement, and paced his chamber as awild beast might pace the floor of his cage; now calmed down into asarcastic smile.

"Yes!" he said in soliloquy, "and here I am at last; here in the hallswhich should have been his and mine, and shall be mine yet; here! andthey know it not; here! and the reward of years of patient endurance isat hand; here! yes, here, in the halls of Aescendune--dreamed of,sighed after, prayed for at the shrine of such gods as promisevengeance; here, by Woden and Thor; here by Satan's help, if there be aSatan!--here! here! here!"

CHAPTER XVI. NAKED THOUGH LOCKED IN STEEL.

Early in the morning the whole household was astir, and the breakfastalone preceded the preparations for the departure of Edwy and hisretinue. Redwald did not appear, and they became uneasy at his prolongedabsence, until, sending to his room, they found him suffering fromsudden, but severe illness; which, as the leech shortly decided, wouldabsolutely prevent his travelling that day.

It was evident that Edwy was annoyed by this, but it was not until aftera long conference with Redwald that he took Ella aside, and pointing outto him the exposed position of the hall, besought his permission toleave a garrison of fifty men under the command of this trusty officer,which would ensure their safety, in case of any sudden attack on thepart of Edgar's troops.

"I can hardly feel that I need such protection, my royal master,"replied Ella; "I dwell among my own people, and am perhaps safer whenquite unprotected."

"In that case, may I press my own poor claims?" replied the king. "Incase of the worst, I should have Aescendune to fall back upon, a retreatsecured by chosen men behind me, where one might halt and turn to bay;again, Redwald's sudden illness necessitates my leaving him to yourhospitality."

Thus pressed on every side, Ella felt he could but yield to a requestwhich the speaker had not only the power but the right, as his feudalsuperior, to enforce; for Ella was not prepared to throw off hisallegiance, as most of his neighbours had done, and to make common causewith Edgar. Again, the conversation of the previous night had given himmore confidence in Edwy, and more hope of seeing Elfric again, like thereturning prodigal, than he had previously had.

Edwy saw this, and continued:

"And it is but a few days hence, ere I propose to return with Elfric--whom I could indeed put in command of such forces as are necessary tosecure you against our mutual foes, when I return southward. Redwald andhis troops will hold the place in trust for Elfric, till he arrives."

The last lingering feeling of reluctance was now forcibly banished, andElla consented to receive Redwald as his guest, with a picked troop offifty men.

"They shall be the best behaved warriors you have ever seen, my ownhus-carles--men who go to mass every morning, and shrift every week,"added the deceitful prince; "at least," he added, as he saw the look ofincredulity Ella could not suppress, "some of them do, I can't say howmany."

In the course of an hour from this conversation, the royal party tookits departure, reduced to half its numbers.

Edwy left amidst the regret of all, so amiable had been his manners, sowinning his ways.

"I take a son's liberty," said he, as he saluted the venerable cheek ofthe lady Edith; "but I will bring your other son back with me in a fewdays."

The road leading over the hill and through the forest had swallowed upthe retreating force, when Ella personally superintended thedistribution of quarters to the guard of Redwald, many of whomafterwards volunteered to follow him to the harvest field, and displayeduncommon alacrity in carrying the wheat safely to its granaries, sayingthe rebels should never have the reaping thereof.

There was, however, a kind of gloom over the whole party through thatday. The thought that deadly strife impended close at hand weighed uponthe spirits of Ella, but they brightened again at the renewed hope ofmeeting his prodigal, and he now hoped repentant, son in peace.

Meanwhile, very different scenes were on the point of being enacted onlytwice ten miles from the spot.

The main body of the army left its quarters on the right bank of theAvon, at the same hour in which Edwy left Aescendune to join them ontheir march and they proceeded in safety all through the morning. Atmidday they lay down to feed and to rest, and while thus resigningthemselves to repose, with the guards posted carefully around, the soundof cavalry was heard in the distance, and shortly the royal partyappeared. Elfric was alert to receive them, but could not conceal hissurprise when he saw their diminished numbers, and perceived the absenceof Redwald.

Edwy saw his look of embarrassment, and hastened to reply to thequestion it conveyed.

"They are left at Aescendune, fifty under the command of Redwald, tofortify the house until we return. You must go home this time, and youneed not fear, for I have been a very saint at Aescendune, and they areexpecting Dunstan will speedily return and canonise me. Elfric, I haveused my sanctity for your advantage, since I have represented you assharing it at least in some degree."

"I fear me, my father is too wise to be so easily deceived."

"Nothing of the kind; he really seemed to believe in it; at all events,I have promised you shall return with me."

"Did they really seem to wish to see me?"

"They did really, especially your brother Alfred."

Elfric started as if an arrow had struck him.

"Alfred. Alfred!" he said.

"Yes, why not Alfred?"

"And you saw him alive and well?"

"To be sure, why not? Did you think he was dead."

Elfric became confused, and muttered some incoherent answer, but herejoiced in his very heart; he felt as if a mountain were removed fromhim, and a sweet longing for home, such as he had not felt since acertain Good Friday, sprang up in his mind, so strongly that he wouldhave gone then and there, had circumstances permitted.

Alas, poor boy! his wish was not thus easily to be gratified: he hadsinned very deeply--his penance had yet to be accomplished; well hasthe poet written:

The midday halt concluded, the troops resumed their march for Alcester,where they hoped to arrive about nightfall, and to surprise Edgar andhis few followers. All that afternoon they proceeded through a densewoodland country; and the evening was setting in upon them, whensuddenly the scouts in front came galloping back, and gave the startlinginformation that entrenchments were thrown up across their path, andthat a large force was evidently entrenched behind.

At first Edwy could scarcely believe the report; but Cynewulf, theexperienced commander upon whom, as we have said, the real command ofthe force devolved, rode forward, and soon returned, having previouslyordered a general halt, and that entrenchments should be thrown up fortheir own protection during the night.

"Ealdorman," said Edwy, impatiently, "why throw up entrenchments? can wenot carry theirs by storm? we are all ready, are we not, for a valiantcharge?"

"Nay, my lord, we are but ill prepared," was the reply, "for suchdesperate measures. I am not certain they do not outnumber us; even so,we probably excel them in discipline and skill, and have every chance ofvictory tomorrow, which we should lose by fighting in the dark."

So Edwy, who did not lack personal courage, and would gladly have endedthe short raid then and there, was forced to be governed by wiser heads,and accordingly the bivouacs were made, the fires lighted, and the royaltent pitched upon the slope of a gentle valley, which descended to abrook in the bottom, where the ground rose similarly on the other side,and was crowned by the hostile entrenchment, behind which rose the smokeof the enemy's fires. The heads of numerous soldiers, seen over themound, showed how well they were prepared.

The entrenchment was dug, the mound thrown up, the sentinels posted, andall in so short a space of time that to the uninitiated in the art ofwar, it would have seemed little short of miraculous; but the disciplineof the Danes, who owed their success generally to the skill with whichthey fortified their camps, had been partially inherited by theiradversaries, and the hus-carles were not even all English: there weremany Danes amongst them.

The suppers were soon cooked and eaten, the wine circulated freely, andpatriotic songs began to be heard: but there was one who seemed to haveno heart for them--Elfric. At the huge fire, which blazed near theroyal tent, Edwy sat as master of the feast, and he was in a state ofboisterous merriment. But all Elfric's efforts could not hide thedepression of his spirits, and Edwy, who loved him sincerely--for thereader has seen that he was quite capable of love--tried to rouse himfrom it, anxious that no one should suspect the courage of his favourite.

Once or twice Elfric seemed to make great efforts to overcome thisfeeling of depression, and partially succeeded in veiling it from allbut the observant young king.

At last the feast was over.

"My friends," said the king, "we must be stirring early in the morning,so we will now disperse for the night."

They drank a parting cup, then separated, while the king took Elfric'sarm and led him aside.

"Elfric," said he, "did I not know my friend and most faithful follower,I should suspect that he feared the morrow's conflict."

"I cannot help it," said Elfric; "perhaps I do fear it, yet, had I butmy father's forgiveness, could I but see him once more, I could laugh atthe danger. It is not pain or death I fear, but I long to be where youhave been, I would I had gone with you now."

"So do I."

"And now I have my forebodings that I shall never hear my father'sforgiveness; and, Edwy, if I die without it, I believe my spirit cannotrest; I shall haunt the spot till the day of doom."

"This is all moonshine, Elfric. You have not been such a bad fellowafter all; if you go wrong, what will happen to the greater part ofthose amongst us who may die tomorrow? When you once get into the fight,and your blood gets warm, you will be all right; it is only the firstbattle that gives one all these fancies."

"No; it is not that. I am of a race of warriors, and I do not supposeone of that race ever felt like this in his first battle. I have oftenlooked forward to mine with joy, but now my mind is full of gloomyforebodings: I feel as if some terrible danger, not that of the fight,were hanging over me and mine, and as if I should never meet those I didlove once, either in this world or the next."

"The next! all we know about that comes from the priestly pratings. Ithink, of the two heavens, Valhalla,[xxviii] with its hunting or fightingby day, its feasting by night, would suit me best. I don't know why weshould think ourselves wiser than our ancestors; they were most likelyright about the matter, if there be another world at all."

"I cannot disbelieve, if you can," replied poor Elfric, "I have triedto, but I can't. Well, I daresay I shall know all about it by this timetomorrow."

"Pshaw! let tomorrow take care of itself; 'tis our first fight, Elfric,and we will have no cowardly forebodings; we shall live to laugh at themall. What shall we do with Edgar, if we get him tomorrow? I suppose onemust not shed a brother's blood, even if he be a rebel?"

"Certainly not; no, no."

"Perhaps it will be shed for me, and a lucky thrust with sword or lancemay end all our trouble, and leave me sole king; but won't the holy foxDunstan grieve if his pet, his favourite, gets hurt? Come, cheer up,Elfric, my boy; dismiss dull care, and be yourself again!"

Elfric tried very hard to do so, and again partly succeeded. They hadextended their walk all round the limits of the camp. It was a beautifulstarlit night: there was a new moon, which was just going down, and anuncertain light hung about the field which was to be the scene of theconflict. It was one of those bright nights when the very aspect ofnature suggests thoughts of the Eternal and the Infinite; when the mostuntutored being, gazing up into the deep blue void, finds his mindstruggle vainly to grasp the hidden secrets those depths conceal; whenthe soul seems to claim her birthright, and dreams of an existenceboundless, illimitable, as the starry wastes around. Such were, perhaps,the ideas which animated the philosophers of the old heathen world whenthey placed their departed heroes amongst the constellations; such,perhaps, the thoughts which led the dying apostate Julian to bid hisfollowers weep no more for a prince about to be numbered with the stars.

Thoughts of peace would those radiant orbs have spoken, under any othercircumstances, to the ardent youth as he gazed upon them; but now theyoppressed him with the consciousness that he was at enmity with themighty Unknown, that he was in danger, such danger as he could notcomprehend; not that which comes from the lance point or the swordblade, but danger which fills the soul with the consciousness of itsexistence, yet is impalpable, not having revealed itself, only its presence.

"Goodnight, Elfric," said Edwy, as they reached the camp on theirreturn; "goodnight. I hope you will be in better spirits in the morning."

Edwy retired within the folds which concealed the entrance to his owntent. Close by was the tent appointed for Elfric, who acted as his page;and the latter entered also, and sat down on a camp stool.

His bed did not seem to invite him; he sat on the seat, his face buriedin his hands; then he suddenly rose, threw himself on his knees, onlyfor a moment, rose up again:

"I can't, I can't pray; if my fate be death, then come death and welcomethe worst. There will at least be nothing hidden then, nothing behindthe scenes. I will not be a coward."

The phrase was not yet written--"Conscience makes cowards of us all;"yet how true the principle then as now--true before Troy's renown hadbirth, true in these days of modern civilisation.

He could not sleep peacefully, although he laid himself down; his handsmoved in the air, as if to drive off some unseen enemy, as if the dangerwhose presence was impalpable to the waking mind revealed itself in sleep.

"No, no" he muttered; "let the blow fall on me, on me, on me alone!"then he rose as if he would defend some third person from the attack ofan enemy, and the word "Father" once or twice escaped his lips; yet hewas only dreaming.

"Father!" again he cried, in the accents of warning, as if some imminentdanger menaced the loved one.

He awoke, stared about, hardly recognising where he was.

"What can I have been dreaming about?" he cried; "what can it all mean?I thought I was at Aescendune;" and he strove vainly to recall thescenes of his dream.

The tread of the passing guard was the only sound which broke thestillness of the camp.

"I cannot sleep," said Elfric, and walked forth.

The night was waning, and in the east a red glow was creeping upwards;the stars were, however, still brilliant. Opposite, at the distance ofless than a mile, the reflection of the camp fires, now low, revealedthe presence of the enemy; before him the mist slowly arose in whitethin smoke-like wreaths, from the grass whereon many should soon sleeptheir last sleep, now in unconsciousness of their fate.

"I wonder where I shall lie?" thought Elfric, as if it were certain hewould fall.

He felt cooler now, as the hour drew near; he watched the red lightcreeping upward, and saw the light clouds above catch the glow, untilthe birds began their songs, the glorious orb arose to gild the comingstrife, and the shrill trumpet in the camp was answered by the distantnotes in the camp of the foe, like an echo afar off.

CHAPTER XVII. THE SLEEP OF PEACE.

The first day after the departure of the king from Aescendune passedrapidly away. The soldiers who had remained behind with Redwald werequiet and orderly in their demeanour, and even, in obedience to secretorders, attended the evensong at the minster church, as if moved theretoby devotion, although the curious spectator might easily discover theunaccustomed character of their service, by the difficulty with whichthey followed the prayers, and the uneasy impatience with which theylistened to a lengthened exposition of a portion of the Anglo-Saxonversion of the Gospels from Father Cuthbert.

The old thane and all his family were very anxious, it may be readilybelieved, for the earliest news from the field of battle, for battleevery one agreed was impending; and, to gratify their natural curiosity.Redwald sent out quick and alert members of his troop, to act asmessengers, and bear speedy news from the scene of action.

The night set in clear and bright, as we have already seen; and whilepoor Elfric was wandering about uneasily beneath that brilliant sky, thesame stars looked down peacefully upon his home, where all slept sweetlyunder the fostering care, as they would have said, of their guardian angels.

The morn broke brightly, and with every promise of a fine harvest day.The labourers were speedily again in the fields; the cattle wanderedunder the herdsman's care to their distant pastures; the subduedtinkling of the sheep bells met the ear, and the other subdued soundswhich soothe the air on a summer's day; and so the hours fled by, and noone would have dreamed that, not twenty miles away, man met man in thefierce and deadly struggle of war.

When the reapers assembled for their midday meal, they discussed themerits of the quarrel, and nearly all those who had been brought underthe eye of "Edwy the Fair" were eager in pleading his cause, and tryingto find some extenuation of his misdeeds in the matter of the illegalmarriage, for such it was, from the mildest point of view; and scarcelya voice was raised on the opposite side, until Ella drew near the sceneof conversation, and observed that "while God forbid they should judgethe matter harshly, yet law was law, and right was right, and abeautiful face or winsome look could not change it."

Strolling near the field, seemingly absorbed in thought, walked Redwald,and seeing the reapers, he came towards them.

"A picture of peaceful enjoyment," he quietly said. "How often have Iwished I could but lay down sword and lance to take more innocentweapons in hand, and to spend my declining days 'mid scenes like these."

"Indeed!" said Ella. "It is generally thought that men whose trade iswar love their calling."

"Yes; sometimes the fierce din of battle seems a pastime fit for thegods, but the banquet is apt to cloy."

"Have you followed your profession for many years?"

"Since I was a mere child; even my boyhood was passed amid the din of arms."

There were very few professional soldiers in that day, and they weremuch dreaded. An Englishman was always ready to take up arms whenlawfully called by his feudal superior, or when home or civil rightswere in danger, but he generally laid them down and returned to hisfields with joy; hence the rustics looked upon a man like Redwald withmuch undisguised curiosity.

"Think you we shall soon hear from the contending parties?" askedAlfred, who was, as usual, in attendance upon his father.

"Perhaps by nightfall; one of my men has just returned to tell me thatthe king's progress was stopped by an entrenched camp of the rebels, andthat they expected to fight at early dawn."

The news was unexpected, and every one felt his heart beat more quickly.

"I have a messenger already on the spot, and so soon as the royal forceshave gained the victory he will speed hither as fast as four legs canbring him; we shall probably hear by eventide."

It is needless to say how every one panted for the decisive news. Ellaand Alfred soon returned to the castle, and Redwald took his horse, androde out, as he said, to meet the messenger.

The hours seemed to pass more slowly; the sun drew near the west, theshadows lengthened; and Ella, with the lady Edith, Alfred, Edgitha, andall the members of the little society, could hardly bend their minds toany occupation, mental or physical. Elfric was ever in their thoughts.

"O Ella!" said his wife, "this suspense is very hard to bear; I long tohear about our boy."

The mother's heart was bound up in him, as if there were no other lifein danger that day; Edwy or Edgar, it was little to her in comparisonwith her longing for her first-born son.

"He is in God's Hands, dearest!" returned her husband; "and in betterHands than ours."

Well might the thoughts of the lady Edith be concentrated on the crisisbefore her. She had borne, with a mother's wounded heart, the separationof three years, and now it was a question of a few short hours whethershe should ever see him again or not. Now fancy painted him wounded, naydying, on the bloodstained field; now it impelled her to sally forthtowards the scene, as though her feeble strength could bear her to him.Now she sought the chapel, and found refuge in prayer. She had foundrefuge many many hours of that eventful day, but especially sinceRedwald had borne the news of the imminent battle.

At length the long suspense was ended. Redwald was seen riding at fullspeed towards the castle, followed by the long-expected messenger.

"Victory! victory!" he cried; "the rebels are defeated; the king shallenjoy his own."

"But Elfric, my son! my son!"

"Is safe: and will be here in a day or two, perhaps tomorrow."

"Thank God!" and the overcharged heart found relief in tears--happytears of joy.

The messenger who followed Redwald brought detailed accounts of theevent. According to his statements it appeared that the king had brokenthrough the hostile entrenchment, and had scattered their forces in thefirst attack. The messenger particularly asserted that he had seenElfric, and had been charged with the fondest messages for home, wherethe youth hoped to be in a few days at the latest, seeing there was nolonger an enemy to fear.

The hearts of all present were filled with thankfulness and joy.

"Come, my beloved Edith," said the old thane. "Let us go first to thankGod;" and they went together to the chapel which had witnessed so manyearnest prayers that day--now, they believed, so fully answered.

All gloom and despondency seemed removed, and Ella went forth to walkalone in the woods, to meditate in silence on the goodness of God.Nearly each evening this had been his habit. The woods, he said, wereGod's first temples, and when alone he best raised his heart from natureto nature's God.

His thoughts were happy that evening: his first-born boy would berestored to him, and, like the father in the Gospels, he longed toembrace the prodigal, and to tell him that all was forgiven. But heschooled himself to patience, and many a fervent thanksgiving did heoffer as he wandered amidst the grassy glades.

But he was more weary than usual with the toil and anxiety of the day,and shortly seated himself upon a mossy bank beneath an aged oak. Thetrees grew thickly behind and before him, on each side of the glade,which terminated at no great distance in the heart of the pathlessforest, so that no occasional wayfarer would be likely to pass that way.

There he reposed, until a gentle slumber stole over him and buried allhis senses in oblivion.

The day was nearly spent, the light clouds which still reflected thesun's ruddy glow were fast fading into a grey neutral tint, and darknesswas approaching. Once a timid deer passed along the glade, and startedas it beheld the sleeping form, then went on, but started yet moreviolently as it passed a thicket on the opposite side. The night breezehad arisen and was blowing freshly; but still the old man slept on, asthough he slept that sleep from which none shall awaken until thearchangel's trump.

Meanwhile they grew uneasy at the hall over his prolonged absence, andat length Alfred started to find his father, beginning to fear that theexcitement of the day had been too great for him, and that he might needassistance. He knew the favourite glade wherein the aged thane was wontto walk, and the mossy bank whereon he frequently reposed, so he lost notime, but bent his steps directly for the spot.

As he drew near, he saw his father lying on the bank beneath the oak asstill in sound sleep, and marvelled that the chilly air of the eveninghad not awoke him. He was not wont to sleep thus soundly. He approachedclosely, but his steps did not arouse the sleeper. He now bent over him,and put his hand on his shoulder affectionately and lovingly.

"Father, awake," he said; "the night is coming on; you will take cold."

But there was no answering voice, and the sleeper stirred not. Alfredbecame seriously alarmed, but his alarm changed suddenly into dreadcertainty. The feathered shaft of an arrow met his eye, dimly seen inthe darkness, as it stuck in the left side of the sleeping Ella.Sleeping, indeed. But the sleep was eternal.

Horrified at the sight, refusing to believe his eyes, the son firstcontinued his vain attempts to awake his sire, then fell on his knees,and wrung his hands while he cried piteously, "O father, speak to me!"as if he could not accept the fact that those lips would never salutehim more. The moonbeams fell on that calm face, calm as if in sleep,without a spasm of pain, without the contraction of a line of thecountenance. The weapon had pierced through the heart; death had beeninstantaneous, and the sleeper had passed from the sleep of this earthto that which is sweetly called "sleep in the Lord," without a struggleor a pang.

His heart full of joy and thanksgiving, he had gone to carry his tributeof praise to the very throne of God.

When the first paroxysm of pain and grief was over, the necessity ofsummoning some further aid, of bearing the sad news to his home, presseditself upon the mind of Alfred, and he took his homeward road alone, asif he hardly knew what he was doing, but simply obeyed instinct. Arrivedthere, he could not tell his mother or sister; he only sought thechamberlain and the steward, and begged them to come forth with him, andsaid something had happened to his father. They went forth.

"We must carry something to bear him home," he said, and they took aframework of wood upon which they threw some bearskins.

Alfred did not speak during the whole way, save that in answer to theanxious inquiries of his companions he replied, "You will see!" and theycould but infer the worst from his manner, without giving him the painof telling the fatal truth.

At length they reached the glade where the dead body lay. The moon wasbright, and in her light they saw the fatal truth at once.

"Alas, my master! alas, my dear lord! Who has done this? Who could havedone it?" was their cry. "Was there one who did not love and revere him?"

More demonstrative than Alfred had been were they in their lamentations,for the deepest grief is often the most silent.

At length they raised the body, the temple of so pure and holy a spirit,which had now returned to the God Who gave it, reverently as men wouldhave handled the relics of some martyr saint, and placed it on the bierwhich they had prepared. Then they began their homeward route, and ere along time had passed they stood before the great gate of the castle withtheir burden.

It now became a necessity for Alfred to announce the sad news to hiswidowed mother; and here the power of language fails us--the shock wasso sudden, so unexpected. The half of her life was so suddenly torn fromthe bereaved one, that the pang was well-nigh insupportable. But Godtempers the wind to the shorn lamb, and has promised that the strengthof His beloved ones shall be even as their day. So He strengthened thesensitive frame to bear a shock which otherwise might have slain it.

The sounds of lamentation and woe were heard all over the castle as theyslowly bore the body to the domestic chapel, while some drew near,impelled by an irresistible desire to gaze upon it, and then cried aloudin excess of woe. Amongst the others, Redwald approached, and gazedfixedly upon the corpse; and Eric the steward often declared, in laterdays, that he saw the wound bleed afresh under the glance of theruthless warrior, but perhaps this was an afterthought.

Father Cuthbert, who had now been elected prior of the monastic housebelow, on the banks of the river, soon heard the sad news, and hastenedup to tender the sweet consolations of religion--the only solace atsuch a time, for it is in seasons of suffering that we best comprehendthe Cross.

When he entered he saw the corpse in the chapel, where they had placedit before the altar, and he could only say, "Alas, my lord! alas, mydear friend!" until he knelt down to pray, and rose up somewhat calmed.

Then he sought the chamber where the lady Edith hid her woe, and therehe showed her that God was love, hard though it was sometimes for thefrail flesh to see it; and he bade her look to the Divine Sufferer ofWhom it is said, "In all their afflictions He was afflicted;" and so byhis gentle ministrations he brought calm to the troubled breast, and itseemed as if one had said to the waves of grief, "Peace, be still."

And then he gathered the household to prayer, and while they prayed manya "_Requiescat_" for the faithful soul, as they said the dirgecommending to the Fathers Hands a sheep of His fold, so they also prayedfor strength to see the love which was hidden behind all this sad, sadvisitation, and to know the meaning of the words "Though He slay me, yetwill I trust in Him."

And then he bade them rest--those, at least, who were able to do so--while he watched by the body, as was then the custom, all through thedeep night.

And so the stars which had looked down from heaven so peacefully uponthe house of Aescendune the night before, of which we wrote, now lookeddown as coldly bright as if no change had occurred, shining alike uponweal or woe, upon crime or holy deed of saint. Yet as the kneeling friarsaw them through the chapel window, he thought they were but the goldenlights which lay about the confines of that happy region where thefaithful live in unspeakable felicity for ever with their Lord, and hefound consolation in the thought of the Eternal and the Infinite.

CHAPTER XVIII. THE BATTLE.

The early morn, as we have already seen, broke upon the adverse hosts ofEdwy and Edgar as the trumpet sounded to arouse them from theirslumbers, in many instances from the last slumber they should ever enjoy.

Every soldier was on his legs in a moment, and, in the first place,preparations were made for breakfast: for it was a recognised factamongst our ancestors that if you wanted a man to fight or do anythingelse well, you must feed him well first. So the care of the body wasnever neglected, however pressing the danger.

Accordingly, Edwy called Elfric to sit by his side at the substantialmeal which commenced the day, and saw, with much pleasure, that thecloud had partly passed from his friend's brow for the hope of immediateaction, of the excitement of battle, had done much to drive lowness anddepression from the young warrior. So he strove to chat and laugh withthe loudest, and when the moment came to marshal the host, and to putthem in array, his spirits were as high as in old times.

The cavalry, which was their strongest arm, was under the command ofEdwy himself, although a sturdy warrior, who had fought in many abattle, rode on his right hand to supply his lack of experience.

The main body of the infantry was under the command of Earl Cynewulf,while the reserve was under the command of Redwald's immediatesubordinate, and consisted almost exclusively of the household guard.

The plan of attack, for it was quite decided that they should take theinitiative, was simple, and in accordance with the ordinary tactics ofthe times. The heavy-armed foot were bidden first to advance upon theentrenchments which crowned the opposite hill, and to break the infantryof the enemy, which was drawn up before them in formidable array; thisdone, the horse were immediately to avail themselves of the opening thusmade, and the entrenchments to be assaulted by both cavalry and infantry.

Armed with huge axes, clad in mail, and bearing large shields, the footadvanced to the attack. They were a gallant company; and as the sunshone upon their glittering armour, or was reflected back from thebright steel of their axes, they might well inspire faint hearts withterror; but faint hearts were not amongst those opposed to them. Thechosen men of the northwest, some of half-British blood, crowned theopposite hill, drawn up in front of their entrenchments, as if theyscorned any other defence than that supplied by their living valour.They had borrowed their tactics from the Danes: deep and strong on allsides, they seemed to oppose an impenetrable wall to the foe; they hadtheir shields to oppose to darts or arrows, their axes for the footmen,their spears to form a hedge of steel no horse could surmount.

Even should they yield to the pressure, still all would not be lost;their retreat was secured into the entrenchments, and there they mightwell hope to detain the enemy until the whole population should riseagainst the men of Wessex and their leader, and his cause become hopeless.

Steadily up the hill came the brave troops of Edwy, and from withintheir ranks, as they ascended the slope, a shower of arrows wasdischarged by the archers who accompanied them, under their protection;but no return was yet made by the foe, until they were close at hand,when a loud war cry burst from the hostile ranks, and a perfect showerof darts and arrows rained upon the invaders.

Still they persevered, although they left a living, struggling line onthe bloody grass behind them--persevered, like men longing for theclose hand-to-hand encounter, longing to grasp their foes in deadlygrip. The shock arrived; and axe and sword were busy in reaping theharvest of death. So great was the physical strength of the combatantsthat arms and legs were mown off by a stroke, and men were cloven intwo, from the crown downwards, by the sweeping blows of the deadly steel.

It was a fearful struggle, but it was a short one; the line was unshakenin its strength; in vain Edwy's archers behind shot their arrows so asto curve over the heads of their brethren and fall amongst the foe; themen of Wessex recoiled and gave way.

Edwy seized what he thought the auspicious moment when the ranks of thefoe, although unbroken, were yet weary and breathless, and ordered hiscavalry to charge. The Mercians beheld the coming storm at a distance;down on their knees went the first line, their spears resting on theground; behind them the second bent over to strike with their axes;while a third rank, the archers, drew their bows, and prepared towelcome the rushing enemy with a discharge of deadly arrows.

Every heart beat quickly as the fatal moment came near; onward, with asound like thunder, galloped the horse of Edwy. He himself rode at theirhead, clad in light armour, and by his side Elfric. All trace of fearwas gone now in the mad excitement of the charge; before them they sawthe wail of spear points; nearer and nearer their coursers bounded,until they seemed to fly. Every rider leant forward, that his swordmight smite as far as possible; and, daring the points, trusting perhapsto the breastplates of their horses and their own ready blades, theyrushed madly upon the foe.

In cold blood no one could, perhaps, have ridden fearlessly against suchan obstacle; but in the excitement of the moment the warriors of Edwyseemed capable of charging any imaginable barrier: and it became almosta pure calculation, not of the respective bravery of the troops, fornone were cowards on either side, but of mere physical laws of force andresistance.

Elfric scarcely looked where he was going. He saw a shining lance point,